With the World at Our Feet
by The Jaxter
Summary: "Please hurry, Finn. We need help. Kurt's all I got." This poor man just entrusted him, a third year law student, trying to make ends meet, with the life of his son. Follow Finn and Rachel as they find that the world of lawyers is a gruesome place. AU.


**With the World at Our Feet: A Finn/Rachel Story**

**Chapter I: Walking Home**

6:25am

His morning begins with one single thought: _Graduation __is __only __twenty __days __away_. Breathing deeply, Finn Hudson quietly rolls out of bed, raising his hands above his head in one big stretch. He shuts off his alarm, taking in a darkened New York City from his apartment window. Rubbing the sleep away from his eyes, he wonders why he needs to shave again when he just did it two days ago. Turning away from the window, he smiles at the tiny lump currently burrowed under the thick covers. Finn stretches his body over the mattress to press a small kiss to his wife's hair; she stirs softly under his touch, not yet awake.

He knows she has work at eight today, waiting tables at a high end restaurant in Times Square, but he lets Rachel have an extra five minutes of sleep. For the night they have ahead of them, she deserves it.

"Mmm…Finn?" she says sleepily, burying her face into her pillow, which is covered in her drool. At least it's not all over him, like yesterday morning. He smiles at her, running his hand through her hair.

"Go back to sleep, Rach," Finn tells her, but she stubbornly opens her brown eyes to look at him.

Her bangs are askew, and she's wearing one of his many oxford shirts as pajamas. Point being, his wife is sexy as hell, and he's mad he can't spend the day and most of the night just rocking her world.

"But today is your big day." She sits up, sticking her bottom lip out in her famous puppy dog pout. Finn chuckles, and takes her hands in his, loving the small "ching" their rings make when they intertwine their fingers. He loves this. He loves waking up with Rachel Hudson, formerly Berry, to the sound of their alarm clock.

Really, he just loves being married.

And, yes, he's twenty six years old, technically still a law student at NYU Law, but he just got a job from Bryan Ryan and Associates—and while it's not the most famous of law firms, it's still a _real_job. So he doesn't have to work nights at _Sly__'__s_ serving beer to his NYU Law peers, or have Rachel work two jobs to help keep them afloat. They're finally moving up, and he's never been happier.

Much to his annoyance, Rachel and Finn take a quick shower, but to make up for that she helps him shave. Wrapped in a white towel, Finn anxiously looks through their mediocre closet looking for something presentable and lawyer-like to wear for class. He never actually owned a suit—he rented his tux for prom, and he used his father's tux when he married Rachel.

The smell of chocolate chip pancakes take control of his senses and makes his mouth water and _God_ he just loves Rachel. Not only is she a firecracker in bed, but she is downright the best cook ever. _Ever._ He goes down the hallway clad in only his boxers, and his face is finally clean shaven. Rachel loves the scruffy look, but he wants to make a good impression today—besides, it grows back every two days.

He's met with an apron- wearing Rachel (her work uniform), and Finn smiles wide. She only makes pancakes on special occasions, like the time she got a call back for _RENT_. Rachel didn't get part, but was the understudy for Maureen and he's pretty sure he had gained thirty pounds because she made pancakes every Friday she had rehearsal.

"_This __is __gonna __be __a __good __life,__" _Rachel sings softly, as she happily flips a pancake. He hugs her from behind, kissing the back of her neck before fixing himself a cup of coffee.

"What do you think I should wear for the workshop today?" Finn asks, and Rachel smiles at him, a little mischievous glint in her eyes. "Why don't you check in the living room?"

Raising an eyebrow, Finn leaves the kitchen and into their small living room to find a freshly ironed charcoal gray suit, with matching pants hanging over their 200 dollar couch. It's a suit. His first suit and a smile threatens to split his face in two.

"Do you like it?" Rachel asks from behind him, and he turns around to sweep her up in another kiss.

"This is awesome, Rach," Finn says. "I'll finally look like a lawyer."

"Besides, seeing your cute little butt in a suit is an added bonus for me, Finn Hudson future attorney at law." She sighs the last part dramatically, and he laughs because she's such a little drama queen.

* * *

><p>Finn Hudson's decision to become a lawyer came during his senior year of high school, while he was waiting for Rachel to get ready for a date. Finn got along great with Rachel's two fathers, having been raised by his mother all his life. His own father died in the army when he was only weeks old, and his mother never re-married. Both of Rachel's fathers were lawyers, civil rights lawyers at that, and at the time Finn had never considered anything outside of football.<p>

To be honest, Finn's first impression of lawyers was that they were lying cheats looking to make a quick buck. However, when he heard Rachel's fathers' discuss tirelessly over legal issues right in front of him, he realized how _hard_ they fought for their clients. Just like the civil rights lawyers from the fifties and sixties, Rachel's dads did something astounding. They gave lawyers a good name, and he wanted to do that too.

With the help of his mom, Rachel and her fathers he managed to get into NYU with Rachel who got accepted into Tisch. Her Broadway dreams were right around the corner, and his were just beginning.

He studied for a good three weeks for his LSAT's, and passed with a score high enough to make it into NYU's law school. Finn married Rachel that same year; it was a private affair with only thirty or so people, but it was perfect.

Finn will finish law school in May, twenty days away, then sit for the bar exam sometime in June. He's glad he took Rachel's advice about taking his difficult classes first, his senior year courses are nothing but a joke—but at least he can goof off and not worry so much. Sports Law, Art Law and really why did he have to take Selected Readings from the Napoleonic Code? Then of course, his favorite class, Legal Problems of the Elderly.

That's right; he's currently paying for these courses.

It is that same class that has Finn sitting in a rickety old chair behind a flimsy folding table in a hot, damp metal building filled with an odd assortment of seniors, as they like to be called. A poorly hand painted sign majestically labels the place as the Madison Garden Senior Citizens Building, but other than that the building is old, gray and practically falling apart. The walls are drab and bare except for an ancient, fading picture of President Ronald Reagan. The building is small, somber and cheerless, obviously built at the last minute with a few spare dollars of the city's money.

Professor Tanaka, a bumbling doofus, has this kind of law workshop every semester that is mandatory for all his students. That's why there are only four students in his class. Finn has never seen a man sweat as much as the fat Professor Tanaka does, especially when giving lectures about how great working with the elderly are. Finn pretty much swallows every ounce of dignity he has and smiles at the professor, agreeing with his conclusions. The class is an easy A; besides, this is a great chance for him to get offered a case. It will be awesome if he goes to work on his first day bearing a case already. Who knows? Maybe he might draft the will of a decrepit old buzzard that has millions stashed away in her tapioca pudding cup.

The point of the workshop is to give legal advice to the seventy-five and healthy, whose children are probably already eating up their precious estate. It's held for about three hours, and since it started he's only had six clients so far, and no case presented. He's more worried about their dentures popping out of their faces than their actual problems, which can be solved by simple common sense. Bored, and trying to look like he's doing something Finn begins to doodle on the legal pad Rachel gave him.

Glancing at his cell phone, he finds that he has one more hour to go and he's free. Doing a simple sweep of the building tells him that he is the only available "lawyer", out of the four forced to come here. He catches the stare of an old man—well not exactly on the verge of dying old, but at least twenty years older than him. The man is shifting awkwardly in line, out of place among the sea of seniors, wearing a wrinkled shirt tucked into his pants. An old hat that says _Burt__'__s_ is nestled tightly on his head, probably to cover up his baldness. In his hands he's holding a bulky wad of papers secured by at least 100 rubber bands.

Finn smiles at the man, awkwardly waving him down, and the poor guy is hesitant like he shouldn't trust him. Which is the absolute truth; none of these "lawyers" are actually lawyers, just law students trying to pave their way into a lawyer's world. If Finn was a regular citizen, he wouldn't be caught dead in this so called lawyer's workshop.

Up close, the man looks worse for the wear, and Finn ignores the fresh ketchup stains on his jacket. He hates ketchup. The man sits down in the rickety old chair on the other side of his small table, an impromptu legal office with the words '_Fuck __You__'_ engraved in the right hand corner.

"Hi there," Finn says casually, offering his hand to the man, who limply shakes it. "I'm Finn Hudson."

"Burt Hummel," says the man tersely, and Finn wonders if this is going to go well.

"Burt," he repeats, jotting his name down next to a three dimensional cube on his legal pad. "What can I do for you?"

"Mr. Hudson, I don't have a lot of money, made some mistakes in my life that put me in the absolute shitter," Burt begins, hands clasped together in front of him. "I need a lawyer." He says the word "lawyer" like it is some big secret. Everyone and their great-grandmother need a lawyer around these days.

Burt starts peeling apart the bulk of papers he had set down in front of him, the sound of the rubber bands snapping breaks Finn's line of thought.

"What's the problem?" Finn asks when Burt shuffles through his documents; they're now scattered all over the table.

"Let me put it lightly," Burt says, handing him what looks like an insurance policy contract. "I'm getting a royal screwing from my insurance company."

* * *

><p>The paper Burt gives him is a medical policy, along with several other documents like hospital bills, doctor's notes, and company letters. He shoves these papers onto him like he's some kind of miracle worker. But Finn is already interested; this is the kind of case he's been waiting two hours for. Finn only has a basic knowledge of how insurance companies work, he looks at his papers as if he's handled these kinds of suits every day. He feels kind of dirty.<p>

"It's a medical policy," Burt says, and Finn realizes he hasn't said anything to the weary looking man. "I bought it five years ago, Carmel Life, when my wife died from breast cancer. Now my son is dying from leukemia and the bastards won't pay for his treatment!"

Burt looks like he might fall apart any minute, but he takes a deep breath and reigns in his emotions. Finn runs his thumb over the company's logo; the proof of insurance is well worn, smudgy and has oil stains. It's been folded, re-folded and the creases are in the process of tearing itself off. It's obvious; Burt has been doing his own digging.

"You said Carmel Life?"

"Yep."

"Never heard of them," Finn says honestly, as he skims over another page of the policy. Two dependents are listed on the policy—Burt Andrew Hummel and Kurt Elizabeth Hummel. _Elizabeth?_ He already feels sorry for kid, but he controls his famous word vomit disclosure.

Scoffing, Burt bounces his leg up and down. He's anxious and Finn has to admit he's pretty anxious too. "Well pardon my French, but they're a bunch of no good sons of bitches."

Finn smiles crookedly, leaning towards Burt a bit. "Between you and me," he says, like it's an inside joke between good friends instead of client and attorney. "Most insurance companies are."

A ghost of a smile appears on Burt's face, and it might be the first smile he's had in months or maybe years. Finn feels good about himself; he's gained Burt's confidence. Looking at the papers again, Finn goes down to business.

"You purchased the policy five years ago?"

Burt nods. "Yeah, something like that. Never missed a payment, I never used the damn thing until Kurt got sick."

Finn's just a law student, and an uninsured one to boot. Rachel has some form of health insurance that her dads' pay for every month. It's about the only thing they pay for, and as for the rest? They have to do on their own. His own mother had great health benefits from working as a nurse, and thankfully Finn hardly ever got sick. Besides, insurance policies are expensive when you have to pay one thousand dollars in rent each month, plus fifty grand already in the hole. He's lucky he can afford to even live in the city, let alone an insurance policy.

"And, uh, you say he's dying?"

Burt's shoulders slump and Finn just watches him sympathetically. "He has acute leukemia. Caught it about eight months ago. The doctor's gave him about a year—but without a bone marrow transplant, he won't make it."

"A bone marrow transplant?" Finn repeats, jotting it down.

"Yeah, we found a perfect match for Kurt's transplant: Kurt's friend Blaine. Anyway the problem is the transplant costs one hundred fifty thousand dollars. I don't have that kind of money. The insurance company's supposed to pay it because it's covered in the policy right here," He explains, pointing at the paper Finn's holding in his hands. "Those bastards said no, and now my boy is dying."

Burt has an amazing way of getting to the core of this mess.

"Where does he live?" Finn asks.

"Home. Never got the chance to live anywhere else, he got the leukemia when he graduated high school. That's another reason why the company shot us down since as an adult he's no longer covered."

Finn picks through the papers, and takes a glance at the letters to and from Carmel Life.

"Does the policy terminate his coverage when he becomes an adult?" Finn can't believe the words coming out of his mouth; he sounds like a lawyer.

Burt shakes his head and smiles tightly. "Nope. It's not in the policy, Finn. I've read it a dozen times, then a dozen more times, and it's all smoke and fucking mirrors. Read the fine print with a magnifying glass."

Finn chooses a letter from the pile and actually reads it. It's from the senior claims examiner from their headquarters in Cleveland, Ohio. The company is in his neck of the woods. According to Burt, its letter six of the seven denial letters he's received from the company. Basically, they claimed that Kurt's leukemia was a pre-existing condition and therefore not covered in the policy. Finn looks up at Burt, who looks nervous as he reads through the letter. If Kurt in fact has had leukemia for less than a year, then he was diagnosed four years after the policy was issued by Carmel Life.

It dawns to Finn that there is something wrong here, and finds it almost incredible.

"They've tried everything, Finn." Burt breaks the silence and Finn's afraid he might break down. "Look at all those papers!"

All of the letters carry excuses about exclusions, exemptions, pre-existing conditions—they've tried everything. Burt points to the last letter, asking Finn to read it aloud to him. Finn doesn't want to, but complies. "Dear Mr. Hummel, on seven prior occasions this company has denied your claim. We now deny it for the seventh and final time. You must be stupid, stupid, stupid!"

Finn's mouth hangs open in shock, while Burt leans back in his chair barking out an empty laugh. He rubs the engraved logo at the top in total disbelief. Last fall Finn took a course called Insurance Law, he remembers being shocked at the behavior of certain companies in bad-faith cases. He managed to pull off an A- in the class, and was put in Professor Beiste's good graces. That's how he got the job at Bryan Ryan.

"You never missed a premium?"

"Not a single one."

He's not sure why he's doing this; why he's taking this case so close to heart, because he really can't do much of anything. He's just a law student, but with the way Burt is so gung-ho about his case—Finn really feels he might just be able to help him.

Carmel Life must pay. It's the only thing that makes sense, right? But the law, from what he understands it to be, is seldom clear and hardly ever makes sense. Finn knows there must be something fatal awaiting him deep in the depths of Burt's pile of rejections.

Finn folds the Stupid Letter and places it on top of the pile. "It will take me a few hours to review all this."

"Well you need to hurry. Kurt doesn't have much time. He weighs less than a hundred and ten pounds. He's so sick some days he can barely walk."

That's all Finn needs to hear. Their time is up, and Finn rises opening his messenger bag, putting all of Burt's papers in the front pocket. He will most likely review the policy and the letters, and Kurt's medicals then he'd consult with Professor Beiste, a real lawyer. He will write a two page letter to Mr. Hummel that he should have the case review by a specialized lawyer that deals with insurance companies in bad faith. There's nothing much more he can do, but he will see that Beiste help him out—help Mr. Hummel out.

"Do you think we've got a case?"

Though a mere student of the law, Finn already learned a great deal of double talk—but he's not a liar. He's going to be honest with Burt. The man looks like he's been lied to enough. "It's possible. But it'll take further review and more research."

"What the hell does that mean?" Burt asks.

"It, uh, means that you've got a damn good claim, but I'll need to review all this stuff before I know for sure." Finn's getting nervous from Burt's heated stare, he does not want to be at the wrong end of his shotgun.

"I'll do my best, Burt. I promise you, I'll do my best."

It looks like it's not enough for Burt, but he, too, rises adjusting his hat. Finn says his goodbyes, but Burt gently touches his wrist and looks helplessly at him. "Please hurry, Finn. We need help. Kurt's all I got."

They stare at each other for what seems to be like forever, and finally Finn nods a lump in his throat. This poor man just entrusted him, a third year law student, trying to make ends meet, with the life of his son. He honestly believes that he can take this pile of rubble that's been shoved in front of him, pick up the phone, make a few calls, write a few letters, huff and puff, threaten this and that and, Presto! Carmel Life will crumble to its knees and just throw money Burt's way.

That's not how the system works, unfortunately.

Burt retreats from Finn's table, head held high, and zig zags his way out of the building. Finn is almost certain that there's some form of exclusion that perfectly legitimizes that Mr. Hummel has no case. He rubs his temples, managing a curt goodbye to Professor Tanaka, and he makes it to the subway with his sanity intact.

His ignorance of the law floors him, and to think that in a few short months he will be standing in courtrooms arguing motions in front of judges, lawyers and juries. Finn feels that maybe, he's not ready for the power to sue. He shakes his head. It's people like Mr. Hummel that made him want to become a lawyer in the first place. He doesn't give up that easy.

Sitting down on the B Train, feeling hot and sweaty under his suit, Finn realizes how much law school is three years of wasted stress. In his first year of law school, everyone loved everyone else because they were studying the law. And the law is a noble thing. Finn chuckles at the thought. By his third year of law school you were lucky if you weren't murdered in your sleep. His classmates lied to the professors, hid textbooks and leaked exams.

Such is the nature of the profession.

* * *

><p>In the deepest, darkest and most private corner in the basement of the library, behind stacks of cracked and ancient law books, Finn sits hunched over in a study carrel. The fluorescent lights above his head flicker on and off every few hours and the air conditioning sucks. With the Bar Exam taking place in June, most of his fellow classmates have taken up most of the private study rooms. He takes a sip of his Monster Energy Drink, grimacing at the taste. Rachel will kill him if she finds out that he drinks it behind her back. It's the only thing that's keeping him awake right now. Leaning back in his chair, Finn looks at his finished product: his first compiled case.<p>

On top of the neat pile of papers is the Stupid Letter.

It took Finn a good five hours to review every piece of the policy Burt bought his son. He read the Stupid Letter over ten times and he gets angry just thinking about it. It is shocking and mean, and obviously written by some executive, convinced that Burt would never show it to a lawyer. Finn learns that the policy was purchased for eighteen dollars a week, "baby money" as Professor Beiste likes to call it. He found nothing, no logical reason for Carmel Life to simply _not_ pay for Kurt's treatment. He has proof, chronological proof, that Carmel Life denied, in writing, the coverage of a legitimate claim.

As Professor Beiste would say, he smells blood.

Rubbing his eyes, Finn looks at his phone to find that it's 7:17, he has an hour before he and Rachel have to go to _Sly__'__s_. He packs up his things, even organizing Burt's file into a manila folder. He doesn't like that Rachel has to sing in a bar. Scratch that. He doesn't like that they both have to work at _Sly__'__s_, period. It's dirty, filled with rotten lawyers and crooks, but good. Not to mention the fact that his wife brings all the paying customers.

Rounding the corner out of the elevator, Finn bumps into Sam Evans, a good friend of his and fellow classmate.

"Hey Finn," Sam grins, his smile taking up his whole face. "Would you mind telling me about that merger at Bryan Ryan?"

Finn's face visibly pales, raising his eyebrow in confusion.

"What merger?" he manages to choke out.

Sam looks concerned. "Bryan Ryan is merging with Town & James—it's all over the news."

Before Sam could say anything more, Finn takes off at a run, his long legs feeling like lead with every step, just like all his dreams and aspirations. He doesn't care if he looks like some idiot parading down the New York streets. He has to save his job. He just has to!

Town & James is the stuffiest, largest, and most prestigious and wealthiest firm in the state of New York. A hundred and twenty lawyers call it home, many of them from Yale and Stanford. Its power resides with the people they represent, rich corporations and governmental entities. You can spot a Town and James lawyer by the way he walks, talks and dresses. Armani suits with classic black BMWs, and damn it, he just wants that kind of life for him and Rachel.

He knows that Town and James would never want Finn Hudson NYU law student who came from a small town of Lima, Ohio, who followed his fame seeking girlfriend to New York. He would just get lost in the shuffle. Taking two taxis and the train, Finn makes it to the Bryan Ryan and Associates building finding it dark and empty. Office hours are over, after all. Noticing a small typed up sheet of paper, taped to the glass door, his heart plummets to his stomach.

_As __of __April __12, __2011: __All __recent __hires __are __under __consideration __for __employment __under __Town __& __James_.

A sheet of paper tells him he just got fired from a job he never started.

* * *

><p>Their apartment is a small and quiet place, just outside of the Village on the Lower East Side. Her fathers had made a deal with the landlord to keep the rent cheap. Yes, $1,000 is better than $2,000. It's a simple one bedroom, one bathroom apartment, that's just enough for the both of them. Their first project as husband and wife was painting the kitchen an olive green and re-polishing the cabinets. He enters the second floor hallway, stumbling his way over to room number 4B and he feels like he might cry when he hears Rachel sing <em>Faithfully<em> through the door.

_How __the __hell __is __he __supposed __to __explain __this __to __her?_

Unlocking the door, he enters, and he knows that she's in the bedroom fixing herself up for another late night of singing. He drops his bag in the foyer. She's told him so many times that she doesn't mind singing at the bar. He's glad that he and Rachel managed to score a job at the same place, so he could keep an eye on her better. He won't tell her that though. It also saves them money in cab fare. Rachel says its excellent practice, and she might even get noticed by big time Broadway producers if her name is bounced around enough. He hopes so. He hopes that her dreams will come true at the expense of his dreams.

Maybe her dramatics are rubbing off of him.

Rachel opens the door to their bedroom, dressed in a tight black dress and her hair is all thick and wavy. She doesn't have her black heels on yet.

"Finn!" she says happily, welcoming him home. Her smile falters when she takes in the look on his face. His suit is all rumpled, hair askew with sweat, and his shoes look all scuffed like he just ran three hundred miles. Maybe he did.

"What's wrong? Did something happen?" she asks, walking towards him. "You didn't get mugged did you? I told you to take that pepper spray!" Her crazy is coming out again.

He doesn't know what to do, and at times like these he wishes he could just hide in a little hole and never come out. But that's not what adults do, and he mans up by cupping her face in his hands, running his thumb along her cheek.

"I'm sorry, Rachel," Finn croaks out, feeling her body stiffen. "I don't have the job anymore"

He pulls her into a fierce hug, afraid that she might leave him for someone better, smarter, who can provide a better life for her. Rachel doesn't run away though, and instead hugs him tighter, her hands rubbing little circles on his back. They've been banking on this job for the last three months, and this just put their plans into a full and complete stop.

She's staying positive, telling him that it's all going to be okay, that everything is going to work out in the end. Finn can only hope so.

* * *

><p>AN: I want to say a huge "Thank You!" to my wonderful beta: The <strong>Imperfectionist<strong>. She's great, and without her I would not have gotten the courage to actually post this. :D


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